Nadia Uncensored: 'Something felt weird inside me. I ran to the restroom... and found it.'

It was a condom my new work colleague and I had torn the hotel bed apart looking for, to no avail.

Unbeknownst to me, it took a vacay in my vajayjay the next day, while I nursed a hangover on a flight home from a conference in Hawaii. And I still wonder, if it was that condom, lined with his DNA, that planted the seed of obsession in me; one that would grow like a persistent weed, destroying everything in its path.

John was 25, recently relocated from the UK, and had a bumbling British accent reminiscent of Hugh Grant in Four Weddings & A Funeral. Other than that, I knew nothing about him. So obviously, I had to have him.

Things worked in my favour then, when we were summoned to attend a work conference together in Hawaii. Cue the trying on of impossibly small bikinis in change rooms with lighting that makes you want to cry, the booking of salon appointments to wax all pubic hair back to a prepubescent state, and a nine-hour plane trip.

“That was a long-arse few days!” I complained, plonking myself on the bar stool next to John at the end of the last day of the Hawaii conference.

“Yeah. Thank God for the free alcohol!” he quipped back with a dorky smile.

John wasn’t conventionally attractive. He looked a little like a gangly teen, still growing into his limbs, and generally unsure of himself. Still, we were in HAWAII, and, THAT ACCENT.

“Do you know what the plan is tonight? Like, what we’re all doing?” I asked, grabbing a glass of pre-poured wine off the bar.

“I think after dinner most people are going back to their rooms. But a few of us will kick on. I heard someone say something about a strip club,” he smirked, a twinkle in his emerald green eyes.

The Anal Episode

Sealed Section

What's Your Number?

The Prude & The Pornstar

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Six complimentary Rieslings and one buffet dinner later, we were indeed, sitting in a Hawaiian strip club. It was the first time I’d ever been in one, and, TBH, it was actually kind of awesome. There was a surprisingly refreshing variety of shapes and sizes of bodies having dollar bills flicked at them. And, maybe it was the sense of body empowerment in the room, or the sexy music blasting through the club, but a few minutes after ordering our drinks, John and I were making out like horny teenagers.

“Let’s go back to my hotel room”, I whispered into his ear, urgently.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Actually, I do!” he answered – a tinge of pride in his voice, as he triumphantly tapped on the wallet in his back pocket.

My lady parts were already tingling in anticipation. John was my conquest, and I was about to have him.

Back in the hotel room, he tore my clothes off like they were wrapping on his presents on Christmas day, then grabbed me roughly and flipped me onto my stomach, entering me from behind.

Well, at least, it had the makings of something hot. But, very quickly, things got weirdly awkward.

John began to fumble, seeming unsure of himself (was he nervous or just really inexperienced?), our thrusts were out of sync, and somehow one of us accidentally elbowed the other in the groin at some point. Then, most likely in an effort to show me his kinky side, he grabbed a chunk of my hair and yanked back. Unfortunately he accidently pulled so hard, my entire head went flying back, prompting my neck to crack loudly enough for both of us to hear it.

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“Oh no! Are you okay?!” he asked, fearfully.

“Yes. I’m fine. Just keep going!” I urged, paranoid he was going to lose the little momentum he’d gotten going.

“Shit! It must have fallen off!” he panicked, pulling back the bedsheets to see where it had fallen.

After tearing the bed apart with no luck, John poked his fingers around inside me.

“There’s nothing there. Where else could it be?” he said, the panic now evident in his voice.

I was starting to lose my lady boner, and was, honestly, pretty desperate to just pass GO and collect my orgasm.

“Don’t worry about it. Put a new condom on and lie down!” I directed.

He obediently plucked another condom from his wallet and rolled it on. I straddled over him, thrust my hips back, and began fingering my clit, determined to get the job done.

“I’m going to come!” he suddenly announced.

‘Are you freaking KIDDING ME?!! Not before I do, you Dorkface f*ck!’ I wanted to yell. Instead, I grabbed his hands and put them on my butt.

“Pull me down. HARD!” I commanded.

One Mississippi… Two Mississippi… Three Mississippi… OHHHHHH YEAHHHHHH…

Former escort Samantha X and Dr. Lauren Rosewarne explore everything there is to know about the orgasm. Post continues after audio.

And that was that.

Or, was it? On the flight home, despite what an epic fail the previous night’s sex had been, I couldn’t stop thinking about John, who I’d already mentally nicknamed ‘Dorkface’ on account of his complete lack of game. It was almost as if he was stuck in me. Actually, something was stuck in me, literally. What the hell was that weird feeling in my pelvis? I made a dash for the plane restroom – and that’s when I found it. The condom.

It flopped out into the toilet as soon as I sat down.

As I flushed it away in equal parts horror and disbelief, a message sounded over the speakers.

‘The pilot is preparing for landing. Please return to your seats,’ came a clear, soothing voice.

I washed my hands and returned to my chair. But something felt different – and it wasn’t the absence of the condom.

There was a tightness in my chest. An intense nausea overcame me. The plane cabin swirled and went blurry.